


Beautiful and Sexy and Mad

by Lomonaaeren



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Established Relationship, F/M, Horrid Song Lyrics, M/M, Stupidity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:40:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lomonaaeren/pseuds/Lomonaaeren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obviously, the only way to stop Hermione’s mad plan to free the Malfoy house-elves is for Draco and Harry to do something even <i>more</i> mad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful and Sexy and Mad

**Author's Note:**

> Written several years ago as a fic for hd_500, for twistedm. She gave me the keywords _MP3 player, yarn, leather_ and the line of dialogue: “Yes, Master Harry.”
> 
> Beta Acknowledgment: zeto and raphsody606.
> 
> The song lyrics are completely my creation. Believe me, no one else would want to claim them.

  
“Harry! We’ve got to stop her!”  
  
It was unfair, Draco reflected, the way Harry only turned his head towards him and opened one eye, barely waking from his doze. Harry had grown positively lazy since he moved into the Manor. Draco knew Harry had had a deprived childhood followed by a terrifying adolescence of being chased around Hogwarts by Dark Lords and giant snakes and rabid Defense teachers and the like, but still, you’d think he would do _something_ other than lie on a couch and have a house-elf fan him with a palm leaf.  
  
Well, all right, he was doing something other than that. He was thinking about the next advertising slogan he would sell to make himself and Draco richer. For some reason, he was a genius at thinking up such things, and after several years most of the Muggle corporations knew it and came to him when they had something new to market. Or so Harry claimed, anyway. Draco didn’t understand how the process worked and he probably didn’t have half the terms right. He didn’t care to. He only cared that a bunch of new Galleons appeared in their shared vault every fortnight or month.  
  
“Got to stop your mother?” Harry asked in a voice heavy with sleep, which made Draco have sudden suspicions about his productivity. “What’s she doing?”  
  
“Not my mum, your friend Mu—Hermione,” Draco said, as he folded his arms and tried to glare. It was hard to, when Harry was mostly naked and Draco could admire all the strong muscles rippling in his back and along his spine. “What has my mother _ever_ done that would make you suspect her when things go wrong?”  
  
Harry stuck a thoughtful thumb in his mouth, which made Draco shiver, because he remembered what that thumb had done to him last night. “Well, let’s see,” Harry said. “There was the poison in the porridge the first night I moved in here, and then the Expanding Curse cast on the venison the second night, which would have blown my stomach apart if I’d eaten it, and then the large chandelier she ordered the house-elves to let fall on me—”  
  
“Oh, but _besides_ that,” said Draco. “That was just high spirits.”  
  
Harry studied him from beneath half-lidded eyes. “Right,” he drawled.  
  
Draco shook his head and got back to the original track of the conversation. Harry was always exaggerating how badly Draco’s mother behaved in order to cover up the indiscretions of his friends. “But anyway, Granger is plotting to free all our house-elves!”  
  
Harry laughed. “Most of them won’t let her near them with clothes anymore.” The elf fanning him nodded in emphatic agreement. “How is she going to do that?”  
  
“She’s going to play music on some Muggle device she’s enchanted to withstand magic the next time she comes here for dinner,” said Draco darkly. It seemed to him that Harry’s friends came to the Manor for dinner quite a lot, even though they objected to the Malfoys on moral and hereditary grounds. “Then she’ll ask the elves to dance for her. It’s a simple request, and one they won’t refuse, especially if my mother seconds it, which she will, because she loves seeing the elves dance.”  
  
“Your mother needs a hobby,” Harry told the pillow beneath his cheek. “Something other than trying to kill me, I mean.”  
  
“She’s very lonely since Father went to Azkaban,” Draco said stiffly. “She’s simply trying to carry on his legacy.”  
  
“Of torture and murder?”  
  
“Of having fun,” Draco snapped, and continued in determination before Harry could stop him. “Anyway, she’s been carrying about a bunch of yarn lately, and she’s going to Transfigure that into clothes and magic them into appearing just in front of the elves whilst they’re dancing, so they can’t help stepping into them.”  
  
The elf with the palm leaf gave a little squeal of alarm and fanned its own face for a moment before it went back to fanning Harry.  
  
Harry was staring at Draco with his eyebrows raised now. “And how did you find this out?”  
  
“She sent you an owl trying to persuade you to cooperate with her.” Draco triumphantly held up the envelope. “Only I intercepted it first.”  
  
“Why’ve you got scratches on your hand?”  
  
Draco valiantly ignored this question. Granger’s owl also needed a hobby, other than mauling innocent people. “Look at it if you don’t believe me,” he said, and held the crumpled letter out to Harry. The fanning elf cocked its head so it could also read, and its hands tightened on the stem of the palm leaf until the thing snapped. Draco glared harshly as the elf vanished with a bow of apology, returned in a moment, and began to fan Harry again, whilst stepping on its own feet as punishment.  
  
“Yes, that’s what she plans to do, all right,” Harry replied thoughtfully, handing the letter back to Draco. “So obviously the way to stop her is to come up with some other form of entertainment, one that will distract the elves _and_ Hermione.”  
  
He looked at Draco with a grin on his face. Draco narrowed his eyes. He’d last seen that grin right before he spent half the night dressed up in a frilly robe and lace collar, and calling Harry “Daddy.”  
  
“What does this plan have to do with me?” he demanded.  
  
*  
  
“Are you _certain_ this will work?” Draco hissed to Harry just before he stood up to politely excuse himself from the dinner table.  
  
“I know no one else could do it half as well as you,” said Harry, and gave him that smile that could melt glaciers, the smile Draco had seen aimed at him one day in Diagon Alley and decided he must possess, even if it was on the face of Harry Potter.  
  
Draco rose and marched upstairs with a nod to Harry’s friends and his mother. On the stairs, he disarmed a Tripping Jinx artfully placed so as to give someone a head-breaking fall. At the top of them, he found an enchanted garotte that would shoot out of the wall at throat-height and tighten; he regretfully broke it. The corridor to the bedroom he shared with Harry was strewn with exquisitely sharp splinters of glass to cause wounds which wouldn’t stop bleeding. Draco Vanished them.  
  
His mother did so enjoy her little amusements.  
  
 _And now I’ll give her something else to enjoy_ , Draco thought, as he shut the door and approached the costume Harry had laid out for him on the bed. He had worn it once before, to make absolutely sure it would fit. Not that it had fit for long, because Harry had torn it off him in a fit of passion and sealed Draco to the bed with his mouth. Draco was always pleased when Harry was ready to have sex at a moment’s notice, though he had to admit he hadn’t quite understood why Harry was overcome with lust then.  
  
He carefully pulled on the tight leather trousers, sucking in his breath just a _bit_. Well, it was impossible not to gain some weight when he was tasting all of Harry’s food. He then picked up the leather harness and draped it over his chest, snapping it into place with a few steel buckles. He shivered as the cold of the metal buckles on his chest made his nipples peak. When he moved, the silver bells strung on the harness rang.  
  
And as for music…well, Harry had said he would take care of that part.  
  
Draco jangled softly out of the room and jingled down the staircase. He reached the dining room in time to hear Granger say, with innocence in her voice that wouldn’t have fooled the Wizengamot, “How about a little music?”  
  
“I agree completely, Hermione,” Harry said gravely, and Draco heard her squeak as he took her enchanted Muggle device away. It was called an MP3 player, if Draco remembered correctly, though he didn’t know how it worked. Then Harry spoke the words he and Draco had agreed on for his entrance. “I cast a spell that will make it play one of my favorite songs. Now if only I had someone to dance to it.”  
  
Draco shoved open the door of the dining room and strutted in, his gaze sweeping the table. His mother was staring at him, which was the largest reaction he’d got out of her since Lucius went to Azkaban. (The cackles with which she ruminated some new way to express her delight at having Harry in the house didn’t count). Granger and Weasley looked ill. They _would._ Harry’s appreciative eyes were the only thing that mattered.  
  
As the first lyric escaped from the Muggle device, Draco took his pose and began the dance Harry had recommended, prancing stiff-legged around the room and kicking out at random places.  
  
 _Just come and LOVE me_  
Whenever you CHOOSE  
Just don’t OPPOSE me  
‘Cause baby, you’d LOSE.  
  
Draco bent backwards and winked at Harry, letting anyone who chose to admire the tight curves of his thighs and arse. Granger had her hands clasped across her mouth, he had time to notice smugly. Clearly, she was overwhelmed. Weasley still looked ill. Of course, one could not expect one of that cretinous, inbred bunch to appreciate art.  
  
 _I’m yours to the SKIES_  
But I’m a jealous THING  
So baby if you’re WISE  
You’ll get me a RING  
  
Draco took mincing little steps, then turned and bent over. He heard a few choked gasps as he shook his arse. Well, any sacrifice was necessary to keep Granger from going after and freeing his house-elves. And Harry had especially mentioned that step of the dance as being important, though Draco didn’t understand why.  
  
 _Oh, pet me and I PURR,_  
But I can be SCARY.  
If you go back to HER,  
Will she say “Yes, Master HARRY?”  
  
If you never do me WRONG,  
I can say it to you all night LONG.  
  
Yes, Master Harry, yes Master Harry,  
Listen to me sing, see me dance.  
Yes, Master Harry, yes Master Harry,  
Just give your slave one more chance.  
  
Draco turned around again with a little frown. Harry hadn’t mentioned that part of the song, and it sounded too much like breaking the promise he’d made never to tell anyone about that time with the whip and the bangles and the toad.  
  
But Granger had risen to her feet and backed away from the table, hands still clamped across her mouth. She had dropped the huge ball of yarn she’d planned to trick his house-elves into wearing, and she’d made no attempt to snatch her letters-and-number player back from Harry. So Draco was confident the plan had succeeded.  
  
Of course, he still had to finish the dance, and Harry had told him to shake his chest hard during this part, so the bells would ring loudly and Granger could have no doubt of their determination.  
  
 _Love and DEVOTION,_  
Sex and DESIRE,  
I’ll drown the OCEAN,  
I’ll outblaze the FIRE.  
  
Yes, Master Harry, yes Master Harry,  
Pet me and I PURR.  
See me sing, see me DANCE,  
(Yes, Master Harry, yes Master Harry)  
Don’t go back to HER.  
Give your slave one more CHANCE  
(Yes, Master Harry, yes Master Harry).  
  
Draco ended up kneeling in front of Harry somehow, though he wasn’t sure how that had happened. Sometimes Harry’s wandless magic reacted without a command, simply in response to his emotions, and right now he quite obviously wanted Draco kneeling in front of him.  
  
Draco wanted to turn his head and make sure Granger had fled the battlefield in disgrace, but Harry had a firm grip on his neck and an intense look in his eyes, both of which prevented Draco from moving. He stared back breathlessly.  
  
And then Harry bent and fastened his mouth on Draco’s, and Draco ceased to care about who was watching.  
  
*  
  
Harry came down the stairs, stretching in a leisurely fashion. By habit, he avoided the enchanted mirror that would suck out his soul if he looked into it and the “portrait” that launched stinging blasts of acid at him. Someday he would have to do something about Narcissa Malfoy, but not right now. Right now he was sated in ways he hadn’t even imagined he could be, and his cock twitched remembering it.  
  
Hermione rose to her feet when she saw him. She’d been sitting on a chair in the entrance hall at the bottom of the staircase. Now she raised an eyebrow. “Well? I had to think up the most inventive excuses to keep Ron here, including that I thought Malfoy had somehow cast the Imperius Curse on you and we should be sure he hadn’t before we left. Was it worth it?”  
  
Harry gave her a smile that he knew looked positively idiotic. “Every jingle and every jangle,” he answered lazily. He cast a Summoning Charm, and the MP3 player floated down the stairs and into his hand. He gave it back to her with a ceremonious bow.  
  
Hermione accepted it and pointed a finger at him. “All right. You got to see your fantasy come true. Now you need to help me make mine come to life.”  
  
Harry sighed gustily. “At least leather is conventionally accepted as sexy. I still don’t understand why you want Ron to dress up as a house-elf.” He cast her a speculative look. “Or maybe I do. I’ve been reading about repression a bit lately.”  
  
Hermione flushed brilliantly. “I wouldn’t talk, Mr. It-Should-Have-Bells-On,” she snapped. “I’ll owl you when I think of a good arrangement.” She stopped talking and turned her head as Ron stepped gingerly back into the entrance hall.  
  
His face brightened when he saw Harry. “You all right, mate?” he asked.  
  
“Yes,” Harry said. “It was a joke, really.”  
  
Ron shuddered. “Next time, I hope his jokes don’t include us,” he muttered. “I really don’t understand what you see in Malfoy.”  
  
Harry laughed and smartly ducked the blowgun dart that whizzed by at the height where his neck would have been. “What’s not to like?” he asked. “He’s beautiful, sexy, not as cunning as I am, and does whatever I ask him to.”  
  
Ron shrugged again, whilst Harry and Hermione’s eyes met in a moment of perfect understanding.  
  
 **The End.**


End file.
